A Family Matter
by Goldiva
Summary: Alba de Luca is the daughter of a poor farmer in rural Italia. But when her bratty older sister is engaged to be married she must accompany her to Roma, where she herself is forced to decide between family and love.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Alba, hurry up. I will not wait for you." grumbled my sister as she strutted up the road ahead of me. I glared and shifted the heavy pack weighing on my shoulders. "Perhaps if you shared the load, I could walk faster." I said, my voice breathy from strain. She waved a manicured hand. "Nonsense! I go to meet my future husband! What will he think if I am sweaty or dirty?" My eyes narrowed and shot daggers into the back of my elder sister's head. She had been as usual, the root of all my problems on our journey from the small town we called home to our destination, the magnificent Roma.

"You know, Carmina," I called scathingly. "I would not have had to carry this in the first place if you had not **sold** our donkey!" She spun on me, angry. "You did not expect me to wear mother's hand-me-down wedding clothes did you? They're hardly flattering, and besides, they smell like straw. The ones I bought are so much more suitable, I needed them!" Her wide pale eyes flashed furiously at me and her upper lip twitched with contempt. "Sometimes you truly are simple Alba." With that she spun, her curls bouncing flawlessly across her shoulders. "Fannullona." I muttered under my breath, fixing the pack across my shoulders and proceeding to struggle up the hill after her.

It was a little after midday when we reached the outskirts of Roma. Carmina, unsurprisingly, showed no sign of the seven day journey, made longer by the lack of a donkey, we had just completed. I on the other hand appeared every inch the weary traveler. A guard stopped us as we wandered into the city, asking us what business we had in the city but truly only interested in talking to Carmina.

Carmina was indeed beautiful. Her hair was a very light brown, like the color of honey, and straight but she curled it to give it an attractive flip. Her large eyes, framed by thick, long lashes, were an even paler shade. Her build itself was extremely petite, but buxom with pixie-like features and a full, pouting, seductive mouth. The guard, clad in armor that nearly blinded me, leaned against a stone wall, eyeing her like a cat does a fish, twisting his scraggly mustache between two fingers.

"Ciao Signorinas." He said, but he only had eyes for Carmina. "What brings you to Roma?" Carmina blushed with false modesty and shifted a little so her dress revealed a little more cleavage. "We are visiting the Bianchetti family. Do you know them?" His eyes grew greedier the more skin she revealed and I began to get a little nervous. "Now what would a beautiful woman such as yourself want with the Bianchettis, Signorina-?" "De Luca." Carmina filled in, fluttering her eyelashes. "She's getting married." I said with a little steel to my tone while simultaneously taking Carmina's arm. She glared at me and the soldier frowned a little before chuckling.

"Ah, the babysitter speaks up at last." I met his gaze unwaveringly and the man backed down; intimidated. "Very well then, Signorina De Luca, Signorina." He stood to the side to let us pass. I nodded and then paused. "Signore, do you by chance know where the Casa de Bianchetti is?" "It is by the church." He said winking at Carmina. "It cannot be missed." "Grazie." I said, quickly pulling Carmina away, into the crowd. As soon as she was able Carmina yanked away from me, spinning and glaring.

"How dare you-" she began, but I cut her off. "Carmina, if you intend to be disloyal before you're even married that's your choice. That said: Not. On. My. Time." I bit out the last words threateningly, my eyes boring into hers. "Guastafesta!" she hissed at me and, for a moment, I thought she would spit. Sighing I spun on my heel and began to walk. The streets were large and crammed with people and vendors. Guards were common enough, marching around in tight formations with their highly polished armor. We came upon a large square of sorts in which a market was taking place. As a girl completely unused to big cities I found myself quickly lost and Carmina, as a girl completely unused to not being the center of attention, wandered off to god knows where to flirt.

Agitated, I spun in a circle, my dark hair tossing wildly. "Carmina!" I yelled, earning a few annoyed looks but no response. "Porca miseria." I cursed in frustration. Suddenly exhausted I located a bench in the shade and trudge over to it. Carelessly I tossed my bag on the bench and sank down beside it, allowing my eyes to close for a little while. A voice broke my peace.

"Signorina?" My eyes flew open to find the source of the disturbance. Confused to find the street in front of me empty, I swiveled my head to the left and found myself face to face with a man. He smiled a little, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "Ciao." I stared at him for a few seconds, too stunned to speak, until my brain slowly registered my pack resting heavily on the man's lap. I hadn't notice him and then I had dumped an extremely heavy bag on the stranger's coglioni.

With a small shriek I leapt to my feet and freed him from the immense weight of the bag. "Scusi! Oh, scusi, Signore!" I blurted quickly before the weight of the pack forced me backward and I fell flat on my back with an audible thud. I groaned in pain, and then groaned again when I thought of the bruises I would have in the morning. My eyes closed and blood rushed to my face as I lay there, embarrassment filling my entire being. To my surprise in only a moment the bag was lifted off of me and a large, warm hand had taken my own and pulled me to my feet.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, concerned. "S-si Signore. Grazie." Turning me around, he brushed off my back and shoulders. "That was quite a fall." I nodded, blushing even more. "The bag is a little heavy for me." I conceded. Then I blushed again. "I'm so sorry for earlier. I wasn't paying attention, I didn't see-" Again he laughed, a husky sound, and shook his head. "No harm Signorina. It keeps a man on his toes to have things thrown at him." I blinked. "So you have things thrown at you often then, do you?" His full lips split into a wide, friendly, white-toothed grin. "You could say that."

The man's intense, dark gaze scanned my face and his brow crinkled a little. "You look exhausted Signorina, please have a seat." I allowed him to support me back to the bench where he sat close enough that our thighs brushed, my bag resting between his leather boots. "What are you called, Signorina, if I may ask?" He was so near my nose was filled with the rich scent of his cologne. "Alba, Alba de Luca. And you Signore?"

"Ezio Auditore de Firenze. It is pleasure to make your acquaintance, Signorina Alba." I smiled a little in spite of myself, he certainly was charming. "As it is yours Signore Auditore." We drifted into comfortable silence which gave me a moment to study my companion. I estimated him to be at least ten years my elder, putting him in his early thirties. He was handsome with creamy coffee colored skin marked only by a small scar on the right side of his upper lip. His dark facial hair was extremely neat as a result of a recent trim and his eyebrows, while not plucked, arched evenly in sleek, black strokes. My gaze flitted to his eyes, a deep green so dark they appeared black. He had very pretty eyes.

His attention returned abruptly to me and I quickly looked away, blushing. He grinned again and patted my bag. "Well then, what exactly brings you to Roma, Signorina Alba?" "A wedding." I answered simply, attempting to calm down. He frowned a little. "Not yours I hope." My cheeks grew redder. "No Signore, my sister's." The mention of Carmina brought back all of my stress from before and my tentative smile was wiped clean off of my face. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"My sister." I answered tersely, anger flavoring my tone. "Do you wish to talk?" He asked. It was clear he wanted to listen. "Carmina, she's so…. infuriating." I said after a while, attempting unsuccessfully to keep my temper in check. "Ever since we were was little she has gotten everything she's wanted because she's manipulative and pretty but she's only about as useful as a pile of rocks, lazy as she is, and she always treats me like I'm as dumb as one." I glanced back at Ezio whose face revealed nothing but attentiveness.

"She harassed Papi until he agreed to find her a fiancée in a big city so she could satisfy her stupid pride and then got upset when he was only the son of a restaurant owner, but by then she was engaged. Papi has to work, as do my brothers, because it's harvest time and Ami is much too frail to travel so I ended up stuck as her escort, and the entire trip all she did was complain. Oh! And then without consulting me she sold the donkey just so she could buy wedding clothes, when she already had Mami's, so I ended up having to carry that stupid pack all by myself for miles, and now were in the city, days late, supposed to go meet her betrothed's family and I have absolutely no idea where she is!"

Tirade complete I felt relieved but fatigued. My bones and muscles ached, I felt dirty, and my only consolation was that an attractive stranger found my misery entertaining. "That is… difficult." said Ezio after a while. I nodded glumly and sighed, straightening my simple blue linen dress, worn grayish over time. "How long has your sister been missing Signorina?" I frowned. "A little under an hour, why?" He chose his words carefully. "Well, in a city like Roma, there's a chance, and a good chance, she didn't wander off of her own free will."

My blood froze to ice in my veins and genuine panic flashed through me. "Dios mia, no!" I gasped, standing abruptly. I scanned the crowd desperately and would have gone tearing off after Carmina if Ezio had not placed a hand on my shoulder. "Calm. You are new to this city and would only be gobbled up as fast as she was. Describe her for me. I will find her for you." I nearly cried at his generosity. Quickly I told him of her hair, her eyes, her smallness, her beauty. He absorbed every detail and then set me back down on the bench. "Rest, Alba de Luca. I will find your sister, do not worry." He turned to go, his warm hand pulling from mine, his strong back facing me.

"Grazie Signore." I said softly. Amazingly he heard me and offered me a parting smile before he disappeared off into the crowd. Nervous but fatigued I fiddled idly with the strap of the pack, fighting not to cry. This was a disaster. How did I know Ezio was trustworthy? He could just want to have a good time with Carmina like everyone else. A single tear rolled down my face before I brushed it roughly away. Everything would be fine, it had to be.

My relief was immense when I saw Ezio's tall figure approaching from across the market. I stood to greet him and took in the flailing form of my sister, who was being carried over his shoulder. "Get your filthy hands off of me, Bastardo!" she shrieked, beating him with her tiny manicured hands. I was mortified. "Stop it Carmina! Basta!" She glanced up sharply at the sound of my voice and her mouth twisted into a sneer. "So you're behind this are you? How dare you! I am my own woman, and you my stupid little sister! You have no right to dictate what I do! I-"

My anger boiled over and I wanted to scream at her until my face was a red as Carmina's dress. I imagined how Carmina's pale eyes would widen in shock as if I had slapped her, gleaning pure satisfaction from the image but maintaining composure. "Calm, Carmina. The sooner we meet your fiancée the sooner you can try out those new cosmetics you bought." She blinked rapidly, startled that I had noticed her secret purchase, but pleased with the idea of making her beautiful face even more beautiful.

Ezio, who was still holding her, raised his eyebrows at me over her head, the set of his mouth telling me he had been exposed to the full extent of Carmina's shallow nature. With that he dumped Carmina, who landed with a thud, too stunned to speak. "It was as you said, I found her in a tavern flirting with some guards. She was quite reluctant to leave." I blushed, embarrassed with the knowledge that her reluctance had probably manifested in some sort of obnoxious spectacle. "Grazie, Signore Auditore. I am in your debt, but now we must hurry. Carmina's fiancée is expecting us."

He nodded instantly. "Of course Signorina." But rather than leave he hovered, as if reluctant to do so. "Come Carmina." I said, taking her hand in my own and firmly pulling her towards the crowd. "Alba!" Ezio called abruptly. "With whom will you be staying?" I stopped and turned. "de Familia Bianchetti, Signore." His eyes lit up a little. "Ah, Restaurante Bianchetti, I know the place well. Perhaps we will meet again Signorina." My body felt suddenly warm. "Perhaps Signore Auditore. Arrivederci!" He raised a hand and then disappeared into the masses of people.

I quickly asked a vendor for directions and set off in the direction of the church in question, which turned out to be Santa Maria Maggiore. Carmina was still sulking and dragged her heels every inch of the way, making my task all the more difficult. She only let up when the restaurant was in sight, and then she walked faster than me, as if it was she who had been the one leading the way. Restaurante Bianchetti was breathtaking. The name was displayed in bold, golden letters on a mahogany plaque hanging above the doorway, which was wide enough for three men of Ezio's size to pass through comfortably. Outside dozens of small wire tables and chairs were scattered, most of them occupied, and the pleasant sound of chatter filled the air.

I glanced through the wide glass windows, covered over with iron latticework, and saw through the warped surface an equally crowded room. There was no doubt, then, that the Bianchettis were wealthy, much more so than I had imagined.


	2. Chapter 2

I followed Carmina through the doorway into the restaurant. The room was very large and brightly lit. The floor was smoothed stone and everywhere you looked were heavy tables of a dark, oiled wood, each decorated by a single scarlet rose in a colored glass vase. Stone pillars, carved with vines and spaced out in the large room, supported the floor above. In the center was a bar with four sides and a counter of polished stone. I watched as one of the men working the bar disappeared down a hatch that no doubt led to a cellar filled with wine.

Along the sides and in the corners were little alcoves in which a party could have more privacy by drawing a thick, burgundy curtain closed, separating themselves from the dull roar of the room. Interspersed between the alcoves on the walls without windows were full-lengths mirrors which had hazy reflections and made whoever looked into them appear more beautiful than they actually were. I was rendered speechless but Carmina, always eager to prove her superiority, feigned indifference. A large oak table was set close to the entrance and behind it sat a sinewy looking woman with graying hair and spectacles.

Carmina strode up to the desk and cleared her throat. The woman, who had been scanning a thick book with a worn leather cover, glanced up with a civil expression on her face, but her eyes clearly showed her annoyance. "Benvenuta, how can I be of service Signorinas?" Her voice was rich and warm, but with an edge of steel that indicated she was not a woman to be trifled with. I started to speak but Carmina cut me off, pushing me aside. "I demand to see the owner of this establishment." The woman raised her eyebrows at the arrogance in Carmina's tone. "Oh you demand do you? May I ask why?"

Carmina, oblivious to the venom in the older woman's voice, plunged forward. "That is a matter for the ears of your superiors, old woman." I recognized the hard glint of anger in the woman's eyes and I gripped Carmina's arm in warning. "Basta!" I whispered urgently in her ear, but she simply waved me off, as she always did. "Now, will you take me to them or will I have to tell the Bianchettis that you disobeyed a direct order of a future daughter of the family?" Carmina's facial expression was one of victory but mine was one of complete mortification. The woman's face was unreadable as she looked at Carmina and then upwards at me.

I mouthed an apology at her, my bronzed skin crimson from shame. She looked at me for a few seconds, her gaze calculating, before she smiled revealing strong, lengthy teeth. "Of course Signorinas, forgive me. The Bianchettis have been expecting you for many days now. If you'll follow me?" She stood, showing surprising posture for a woman her age as well as a significant height she had concealed while sitting. Even I, who tended to be one of the taller women in a crowd, had to look up to see her face.

She led us, weaving her way between the crowded tables until she came to the foot of a staircase, as wide as the entry door, which led upstairs. Our shoes made soft thuds as we ascended and my muscles began to burn as I was still stuck with that dratted heavy bag. We emerged into a large kitchen with many bread ovens and pots of things bubbling away. A huge table was strewn with all manner of vegetables ready to be minced and large cuts of smoked and salted meat hung in nets from the ceiling.

The woman led us through the kitchen and into a sort of common room, strewn with old but richly upholstered furniture. Books filled shelves and littered the floor, the largest pile reaching close to the ceiling. A few dark wood doors branched off from the room but still we pressed on, ascending yet another staircase, this one of a more modest size.

When she reached the next floor she walked down a rather narrow hallway with almost a dozen doors. At the fourth she stopped and threw open the door with a bang. A young man was in the process of pulling on his trousers, his crisp white shirt draped on the large, four-poster bed beside him. He remained bent over in complete shock, staring at the woman, then at me and Carmina, then back at the woman. "Here you have him, ladies. Behold Vincenzo Bianchetti da Roma, future head of household." I felt my brows drift higher in surprise and glanced at Carmina, who was hungrily eating up the naked flesh of her future spouse with her eyes. Finally the man regained his voice and wits, yanking his trousers up over his attractively rounded rear. "Dios mio! What is the meaning of this mama?"


	3. Chapter 3

Carmina blinked confused and my blood ran cold. "Did he just call her 'mama'?" whispered Carmina in my ear, unsuccessfully as it turned out as the woman heard her clearly. "Si, Signorina," came her voice, chilly to the ear. "I am Bernardetta Bianchetti, his mother and the 'owner of this establishment'." Her mocking tone fell from her lips like acid, her face darkening as the rage she had been repressing surfaced. "And the woman who would have been your mother-in-law but it seems that is up for debate now, isn't it?" "I-I am so sorry, Signora!" spluttered Carmina desperately. Vincenzo, who had now tugged on a shirt, began to realize who we were and was about to speak but Bernardetta pulled the door violently shut before he could say a word.

"I am sure you are Signorina." she spat at Carmina. "You're type always is. Look at yourself, nothing but a poor farmer's daughter but already as arrogant as a principessa! Well I won't have it! Not in my house, not while I'm still breathing! So take your scrawny arruso and your mute sister and-" Just then heavy steps could be heard thudding up the stairs. I looked to my right and into the face of a stunningly handsome youth. With a masculine grace and confidence he brushed a few glossy black curls from his eyes, addressing Bernardetta.

"Zia, madre says you are needed at your desk. It is a very busy night, but I see I have interrupted." His sparkling black eyes flitted from my face to Carmina's, who smiled at him invitingly, and then returned to his aunt's. The woman sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of her nose before returning her glasses to their rightful position. "No, it is fine, Raniero. I will come, go tell your mother not to panic." He nodded and turned to leave but not before casting a winning smile at us girls, one designed to leave us wondering who it was intended for. With the beautiful man gone Bernardetta's attention was once again returned to us, as was her anger.

"Come." she hissed roughly walking swiftly back down the hall. Carmina was near tears and I had to push her to move. "Everyone's yelling at me today!" she whimpered pitifully. Bernardetta spun, dark eyes ablaze with anger. "A fact that is not likely to change any time soon Principessa! Now down!" Carmina rushed down the stairs squealing in fear and I struggled after her, tripping at the bottom under the weight of my load. For the second time that day I fell to the ground, pinned under the bag. "Up!" growled Bernardetta.

I tried to heave the bag off of me but after so many days carrying the thing it wouldn't budge. Grumbling she lifted it off of me and then dropped it to the floor, cursing. "Merda, that's heavy! Have you been carrying that by yourself? Insanity!" I nodded limply from my position on the floor as I attempted to sit up. Bernardetta shoved the bag at Carmina who looked at her outstretched hand blankly. "Take the bag, idiota." Carmina's eyes widened as the load was forced upon her. She staggered backwards, tiny compared to the bag, and dropped it with a resounding thump on the floor.

Bernardetta's lips curled with contempt and she shoved me forward so I was next to Carmina. "Wait here." She hissed at us. As she turned to leave Carmina dropped exhausted into the inviting arms of a plush armchair and Bernardetta spun aggressively. "Did I say you could sit?" she snarled, causing Carmina to leap up from her perch. "N-no Signora, but-" "Then you will not sit. You will stand until I return for you. Capisce?" We nodded and she stormed off in to the kitchen.

Carmina whistled low. "Una strega, no?" I hissed at her, wanting to hit her. "It's your fault she's angry!" Carmina shrugged noncommittally and once again sat. "What are you doing?" I asked shocked. "Sitting, she's not here to see me, is she?" I rolled my eyes and straightened my spine, resulting in a few loud pops. Carmina made a face. "Could you try to not be so unpleasant?" I cast a murderous glance in her direction which shut her up for a few minutes. It was at that point that the striking young man, Raniero, returned to the room.

Carmina jolted to her feet and Raniero laughed, motioning for her to return to her seat. "Calm, Bella. I am not here to do Zia Bernardetta's bidding." Carmina, blushing demurely, settled gracefully back into her seat. Shaking my head I shifted from one foot to the other, wanting more than anything to lie down and sleep. Raniero turned to me, concern on his features, but his gaze running appreciatively over my rear. "Signorina, do you not wish to sit?" I laughed. "Oh, Signore, I wish for nothing more than to sit. But I also do not wish to anger your Aunt further."

"Raniero, please. And your names, Signorinas?" "Carmina," interjected my sister quickly, offering Raniero a petit hand. "Carmina de Luca." Raniero accepted it and flipped her hand over, pressing his sculpted, sensuous lips to her palm and gazing deeply into her champagne colored eyes. "It is a deep honor, Belladonna." Carmina blushed and I nearly gagged. "You are Vincenzo's intended?" "I am," she said, her voice trembling attractively. "And you are his cousin." I stated blandly, only letting a small amount of disapproval into my tone. "And, I would imagine, un donnaiolo, a womanizer." Carmina gasped. "Alba! Don't be rude!"

I couldn't help it, I laughed. I laughed so hard I cried and was gripping my ribcage for support. Carmina's pale skin was becoming redder and redder with fury and Raniero seemed baffled by my outburst. Eventually I stopped, brushing water from my eyes and still smiling giddily. "Forgive me, Raniero. I have sensitivity to irony, it seems. And you must also forgive me for assuming your intentions were other than… pure shall we say. You are most obviously a very pious youth; I should not put your celibacy in question." I could practically see steam shooting from Carmina's ears and I had to battle another bout of laughter.

Raniero laughed good-naturedly, which was probably more than I deserved, and removed his hands from Carmina's. "Very good, Signorina Alba. I do enjoy the company of women as much as the next man. But surely you do not think I have such intentions towards my cousin's wife?" There was challenge in both his voice and gaze. "Of course not Signore Raniero, not at all." My accusing gaze, however, drifted back to his and locked. He smiled and my heart skipped a beat, causing a blush to surface on my skin. He cocked an eyebrow and I averted my gaze, staring at my boots. I frowned, the soles were almost worn through and there was an actual hole in the side of the left one.

"I am so sorry, Raniero. Alba is… testy, and a bit simple but not usually outright impolite like that." She sniffed, casting me a vicious glare. "How indelicate." I remained silent. That was me, the indelicate stupid little sister only good for use as a pack animal. "No harm done, Carmina." He replied graciously, stroking her cheek.


	4. Chapter 4

No sooner had his hand dropped than Vincenzo descended the steps from the upper level and entered the room. He was tall, much taller than Raniero, and of a thicker build. His hair was mahogany, streaked with lighter and darker shades of brown, and his skin was very dark for an Italian. His eyes, however, were light, like the murky color of home-brewed beer.

He nodded at me briefly but he only had eyes for Carmina. Carmina stood to greet him and my eyes widened at the height difference. I studied him, his looks not off-putting but extremely plain, and then took in my sister's expression of infatuation. I guessed she could be acting the part of a blushing bride; it certainly was in her skill set, or that she like him for his body. That certainly was possible; he had a very nice body. I blushed a little for having such thoughts and shook them from my head.

"Carmina?" he asked, taking her hand. "Si signore." She breathed. "I am Vincenzo. I am deeply sorry about what you saw earlier. Believe me, I was unaware of your presence or I would have made sure to provide for the purity of your gaze." His voice was deep and pleasing and Carmina was entranced by him. Raniero, sitting alone on the chaise, looked rather put-out and I couldn't help but smile a little to myself. "I must also apologize for my mother. Since father died she has become… aggressive to say the least." Carmina shook her head graciously. "No, no signore. It is no fault of hers." Vincenzo smiled. "How generous of you." I grimaced. How generous of her indeed.

They drifted into their own little world and I began to become acutely aware of a cramp forming in my leg, above the knee. Raniero, annoyed his toy had been stolen from him, came forward and sat on the arm of the chair nearest to me. "So, Alba, is it your first time in Roma?" I chuckled. "First time out of my home town, actually." He smiled seductively. "I imagine the big city must be a change." I couldn't help myself, he was simply too silly. "Look, if I am to have a proper conversation with you, you simply must turn off that charisma." He gave me an innocent look. "Whatever can you mean, Alba?" he asked, purring my name out at the end.

I scowled. "Incorrigible." He smiled. "Aren't I?" I shook my head, biting back a smile. "Aw, and here I was afraid you didn't like me." I raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I don't." His eyes widened a little. "You slay me, Bella. But truthfully, what do you think of me?" A third young man entered the room before I could answer. He was about Raniero's height but twice as thick as Vincenzo, and I guessed he was mostly muscle. When he spoke his voice was gravelly and his dark eyes briefly scanned Carmina's and my faces.

"Madre wants you." He said slowly to Vincenzo, who nodded, a little annoyed but not willing to show it to this giant. "Grazie Ferruccio. Come on Raniero, that's our cue to go." Raniero winked at me and sauntered after his cousin who kissed Carmina on the cheek before heading into the kitchen. Ferruccio, however, did not leave. He simply stalked over to a couch facing me and sat heavily without a word, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and my sister.

Carmina nervously edged her way over to me, pulling me down to whisper in my ear. "Why's he just staring at us?" I bit my lip, every bit as unnerved as she was. "I suppose Bernardetta sent him to watch us." Carmina swallowed hard and straightened her posture just as I did. It drifted later and later into the night but still Ferruccio simply sat and stared. The only time he made a noise was when Carmina, in her infinite wisdom, decided to sit and he growled at her, like a wild beast. Eventually the sound of patrons dwindled and the sound of the Bianchettis closing up shop could be heard.

People began to drift upstairs. Most had apparently been informed of our presence and filed into the living room, taking seats on the copious furniture. Then Raniero came in flanked by Vincenzo, who looked a little upset, and finally Bernardetta arrived along with an aged couple holding hands. Bernardetta coughed and the various conversations stopped and all eyes were suddenly on us. Carmina clung to me and against my better judgment I took her hand comfortingly, rubbing soothing circles against her skin with my thumb.

Bernardetta seemed surprised by this show of affection and her accusing gaze flicked to mine. I sighed, knowing as far as she was concerned I was the same as Carmina now. I stood a little straighter, awaiting her verdict. "Carmina." She said addressing my sister who had pressed herself pitifully into my side. "You are rude, arrogant, lazy and from what I have seen lacking in compassion." Though the assessment was for the most part true I was surprised by the brutality of her statement. "You do not deserve to marry into my blood and if it were my choice I would have you and your doormat of a sister tossed into the Tiber." Carmina began to cry and I could see pity clearly evident on the faces of most of the family.

"However, Vincenzo seems to see some value in you, amazingly. So you will be allowed to stay." Carmina cried harder. She was one of those people whose faces, when they cry, do not become all red and splotchy. Her tears were perfect, crystal dripping harmlessly down her idyllic face, making her look more like an angel than she already did. "Grazie, grazie Signora Bianchetti." Bernardetta's lips curled with distaste. "That does not mean you are forgiven, ragazza." Carmina's face slackened with shock.

Bernardetta approached us and leaned down so that she was nose to nose with Carmina. "This restaurante is a family business, do you understand? A **business**. We all work here and, for most of us, will continue to work here until il Padre," she gestured upwards with a wrinkled hand. "comes to bring us home. If you marry into this family, that is what it will mean: work. You will be allowed to stay here, for a time, but you will earn your keep. Think of it as a trial period, and if I am not completely satisfied, do not think you will be welcome under my roof."

Carmina, nodded numbly and Bernardetta straightened, scowling down at us. "You will start with the dishes. You will not sleep until each and every bowl, glass and spoon is spotless. Capisce?" "Si Signora." I answered in Carmina's stead, as she was temporarily incapable of speech. Bernardetta snorted and turned towards the stairs and presumably off to bed. A plump, bright-eyed girl spoke, her cheerful voice shattering the ominous silence. "But Zia Bernardetta, what about introductions?"

The older woman didn't even bother to turn around. "Do it on your own time Cosima, right now, they are to work and the rest of you are to sleep." With that the matriarch disappeared into the upper level.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Brief Note from the Author:**

I am so unbelievably honored that you have read and commented on my story. This is really my first fan fiction (don't read the other one it is literally and absolutely terrible) and I am super excited that I have gotten so many reviews! Thank you so much for your support, I really, really appreciate it. To answer the Ezio question, he is coming back, and soon. I know I take a while to set the scene but the dashing assassin will return, I promise. Please hang on a little more, I think it will be worth the wait!

Goldiva

The Story

After Bernardetta had left, the rest of the family soon followed suit. Some nodded in greeting to us but most simply shuffled away, too tired to care. To my immense discomfort the only person not to leave the room was Ferruccio, who simply lay down on the largest couch in the room and began to snore thunderously. When they had all gone the room was eerily silent except for the off-putting loudness of the giant man's slumber.

"She hates me," said Carmina after a time, her tears once again beginning to fall. "Whatever shall I do?" I laughed a little and rolled up my sleeves. "Wash dishes I imagine. Come on." I walked back into the kitchen and was surprised with the mess I found, and not in a pleasant way. A large basin that covered almost the entire side of the kitchen was absolutely loaded with soiled utensils and dishes. In addition there were the cook pots themselves that needed to be tended to and the table which needed to be cleared of vegetable guts.

"Well, we'd best get started sorella." Walking up to the basin I noticed a pipe of sorts leading outwards from the wall and a pull-chain beside it. Curious, I tugged on the chain. The pipe lowered and, to my utter amazement, emitted a stream of clear, cold water into the basement. "Marvelous!" I exclaimed. "Carmina, they have indoor plumbing!" Carmina hadn't heard me, too absorbed in her own sorrow to notice. I let the basin fill a little more than halfway before releasing the chain and picking up a large cake of soap.

"Carmina-" I faltered, seeing my sister slumped against the wall, asleep. Annoyed I marched over to wake her, but then I thought about the tantrum she would inevitably throw when I disturbed her. Deciding it wiser to simply do the task alone, I attacked the mountain of dishes. Not wanting to be wasteful I blew out the candles and worked by moonlight.

I started with the easier things, or rather the newer ones where the food had not hardened to an irritatingly resilient crust. I scrubbed with a hog-bristle brush for hours until my knuckles were red and blistered and my fingers were wrinkled from the water. After that I filled a few large pots with water and set them to heat for the more difficult dishes and began to clear the table. As I was sifting through the unwanted scraps I frowned as I found sizable chunks of perfectly good produce. "What a waste." I muttered to myself before scooping onions, peppers and the rest of the assortment of good vegetables into a bowl for later. At that point the water began to simmer and I quickly poured the hot contents of the pots into the basin.

It was dawn by the time I had the last fork clean and dry and everything else put away in their respective places. I stared down at my hands, absolutely raw from scrubbing, and then looked at Carmina who was still soundly asleep on the floor. I had the urge to throttle her but was soon distracted with the realization that I had not eaten since before noon the previous day. Deciding that starving was not a good life-choice I pulled a skillet off of the wall. I set it on the coals of one of the fireplaces and waited for it to warm up. Then I added a small pool of olive oil from a bottle I had found on the shelf below the table and the leftover vegetables I had collected earlier.

It took only a few minutes until everything had a sort of glazed look. I snatched the pan from the embers and ate right from the skillet, the hot food burning my fingers and mouth. I was ravenous, wolfing the vegetables down without bothering to stop for air. It was only when the last onion passed my lips and I was licking my fingers clean that I noticed Bernardetta standing in the doorway of the kitchen. I gasped, only barely managing to keep a hold on the pan. "Scusi!" I blurted out. "I was starving and I just… I only used scraps, you see. I thought-" Bernardetta held up a hand. "It's fine ragazza." She scanned the kitchen critically, walking over to examine the basin. "You work fast, I didn't expect you to finish. It really was far too much for one person to do all alone, you must have been up all night."

I was about to protest but again she stopped me. "We both know that that one didn't lift a finger. Just look at your hands! Dios mio, your hands." Bernardetta came forward, gently examining the swollen red flesh. "If we don't treat that it could get infected you know." I frowned. "It should be fine. I don't mean to cause any trouble." Bernardetta rolled her eyes. "Then we'd best fix you up before the others awaken. Come, we'll drop by the Dottore on the way to market. I need produce."

I stood hastily, placing the pan I had used in the basin for later, and following Bernardetta out into the common room. I found Bernardetta bent over Ferruccio, waking him gently. "Wake up, bambino." She whispered with surprising tenderness, stroking his short mussed hair. Ferruccio slowly sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. "Morning Mama." He yawned. She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Good morning mi bimbo." Bernardetta turned to me. "This is Ferruccio, my second eldest son after Vincenzo." "We met." I said, attempting not to squirm under Ferruccio's heavy gaze.

"Say hello Ferruccio." Bernardetta crooned. The powerful man nodded in my direction. "Hello." It was at this point that I realized that there was probably something wrong with Ferruccio, that he might actually be simple minded. Feeling bad for my earlier prejudices I attempted to make amends. "It's wonderful to meet you Ferruccio." I said slower and clearer than normal but not enough to be insulting. "My name is Alba." He stared at me stolidly for a few seconds before breaking into a smile framed by endearing dimples. "Alba." He said with a nod.

The three of us filed into the kitchen, down the stairs, and into the restaurant. I noted that the chairs had been placed on top of the tables, no doubt to make it easier to sweep underneath. We walked to the door and Bernardetta undid three heavy iron bolts before pushing the double doors open. She ushered us through and removed an old skeleton key, inserting it into a tarnished keyhole and locking the door behind us.

While she was closing up Ferruccio disappeared around the corner. I followed to find him taking an oil-cloth off of a large, well-maintained wooden cart. Grunting Ferruccio slid into the slot where the horse would be, gripped the wooden leads, and pulled it out from the shadows. It moved into motion easily enough and soon we were underway and headed towards the market.


	6. Chapter 6

As promised we stopped by a dottore on the way. His shop was small, tucked between a tailor and a bookshop, and Ferruccio had to wait outside. The man was tall and extremely thin. While his face was masked, his hands had developed age-spots and shook as he prepared a poultice for my fingers, leading me to believe he was very old indeed. "Well," he said as he applied the salve. "This will sting a little." As soon as he spoke fire flared along my digits, searing them. I winced but the pain soon dulled to a faint, tingling warmth.

"That's a fine mess your hands are in Signorina. The top few layers of skin are almost completely worn away." He chuckled at my worried expression. "Peace. Your hands will heal in a few days, a week at most. Then you'll be back to scrubbing dishes." I thanked him and then followed Bernardetta out of his shop after she paid him. "Grazie, Signora Bernardetta." I said, holding up my bandaged digits. She shook her head. "It's mostly my fault. No need to thank me for correcting my own failure. And call me Bernardetta. Signora Bernardetta makes me sound like an old woman."

It was early still and the market had only been running a few hours when we arrived. There was much more variety of goods than I had ever been exposed to at home, though most sold some form of produce. "This is a farmer's market." said Bernardetta, examining a sizable basket brimming with cherries. "It opens twice a week. There's a couple markets on the other side of the Tiber that sell things you can't eat." We walked swiftly. It was obvious Bernardetta was a regular as most of the stall keepers had what she wanted ready by the time she got to them.

She would briefly scan the goods before extracting a few florins and placing them in the farmer's expectant hand. This continued for a couple of hours. Occasionally Bernardetta would stop to haggle and my attention began to drift. I began to stray farther and farther from the cart, always keeping it in sight but distracted by the wonders of Rome. One stall had a few bunches of a strange yellow fruit. I leaned in close, examining the brown flecks on its skin. "Scusi, Signore." I called to the stall keeper, who turned to face me. "What type of fruit is this?" He smiled a little. "Not from Roma, are you Signorina." "No…" He smiled widely revealing heavily rotted teeth. "Those are bananas, Signorina. Imported, you see."

I bit my lip. "Its shape is rather odd, isn't it?" The man chuckled but then stopped when I failed to understand the joke. "Do they taste good?" Again he cracked a smile. But this time he answered me. "Yes, that they do, Signorina." "How much?" I asked. When he told me the price I nearly fainted. "For a bunch?" I gasped astounded. The man shook his head. "No, Signorina. That's for one banana." I thanked him for his time and decided to return to the cart.

I was walking towards the west of the market, using Bernardetta's silvery head as a beacon when strong fingers gripped my arm, tightly enough to be painful. I spun shocked and gazed into a man's eyes, filled with wild emotion. Crazy eyes. As our gazes connected and he saw my face his grip on my arm constricted. "Let go!" I shrieked, fear pulsing through my veins as I struggled for freedom. But the man was much too strong and I could not get loose.

Now he grabbed my other arm and began to shake me so violently I began to see stars. "It's you!" he shouted, his voice raw. "Why have you come back? Why?" I wanted to tell the man he was crazy but I was afraid I would bite off my own tongue. A crowd had begun to gather but no one made any indication of trying to assist me, and Ferruccio was so very far away. "Answer me Floriana!" Terrified, I collapsed, letting my weight fall to the cobbles. The man had not expected the rapid movement and his grasp was forced open, I was free. I scrambled madly to my feet, sprinting through the crowd, anything to get away from this lunatic. "Floriana!" he screamed after me. "Floriana!" I lost myself in the masses of people, melding in with them, losing my identity.

At long last I found my way back to the cart, my chest heaving and on the verge of tears. When Bernardetta saw me her eyes crinkled with maternal concern but something in my expression told her not to ask. Shopping completed we began the return trip to the Restaurante Bianchetti, but even when the sound of the market was far behind us I couldn't shake the goose bumps encasing my body. My heart beat doubled as panic engulfed me, causing my shoulders to shake. It was her name. Floriana was my mother's name.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time we got back to the restaurant I was able to fake some semblance of calm, mostly because Ferruccio, who I was beginning to find quite dear, kept making silly faces at me when Bernardetta's back was turned. He truly was as strong as an ox, moving the cart heaped with food with an almost inhuman ease. I had no doubt he could pick me up with one arm, if he so chose. Bernardetta opened the door and shouted for the rest of the family to come unload the cart. Carmina, most unusually, was already awake and danced gracefully down the stairs followed closely by Vincenzo and Raniero, who were both completely entranced.

"Nice of you to finally wake up." stated Bernardetta icily; her gaze filled with disgust as she looked at Carmina's smiling face. Carmina's joy faltered and she shrank back, appearing small and frail. She played the victim very, very well. "She washed the dishes Madre!" protested Vincenzo incensed. "What more do you want from her?" Bernardetta smiled and a shiver passed down my spine at the cruel twist to her lips. "Oh, nothing I suppose. But truly, you are quite remarkable Signorina Carmina, all those dishes and yet you show no signs of wear. You must tell me your secret." Carmina blushed crimson and folded her hands into her skirt, as if shy.

Looking down I flexed my bandages. The action stung but was eased by the salve; truly the dottore was a miracle worker. Bernardetta shook her head. "Carmina will unload the cart, alone. The rest of you start baking the bread we let rise yesterday." Vincenzo looked shocked. "Madre, this is madness! She can't-" Bernardetta's voice had a frightening edge to it. "She can, and she will Vincenzo! Or she will not remain in my house! Now to the kitchens, away with you!" Vincenzo looked reluctant to budge, resentment in his eyes as water welled up in Carmina's. "I suggest you go, figlio, before I lose my temper." The boys turned away with sympathetic looks towards Carmina and headed towards the stairs. After a moment's thought I followed, though I could feel Carmina's furious glare hot on my back. As soon as I stepped into the kitchen Bernardetta yelled up the stairs after us. "And for goodness sake get that girl a bath. She smells like the Tiber on a hot day."

I blushed crimson and Vincenzo chuckled. "It was a long journey, no? Worry not, Carmina washed only this morning." My lips pursed a little. "Did she now?" Smiling Vincenzo led me across the kitchen floor, through the living room and to the farthest door, which he opened revealing a white washed room. I stared stunned at the contraption I saw. A pipe leading from the wall went into a great cylindrical tank of brass, underneath which a pot of oil sat. The tank then had a faucet which rested over the lip of a great, white porcelain bathtub with iron clawed feet. Speechless as I was, my mouth gaping open, Vincenzo couldn't help but laugh.

"What is it?" I murmured, stroking the smooth metal of the cylinder. "It's to heat the water before you bathe." answered Vincenzo, picking up a box of homemade matches and lighting one. "You turn this valve," he said pointing to a circular piece of metal connected to the pipe in the wall, "and let the tank fill up. When it is full, you close the valve and light the oil." He placed the match into the pot of oil and a blue flame burst forth, licking the bottom of the tank like a greedy lover. "Now just wait until the water is as warm as you want and then put the cover on the oil pot to suffocate the flame. This valve," he said pointing to the porcelain handle attached to the faucet. "will fill the bath. Oh, and be sure to use the cork in the drain before you start filling, otherwise all your water will just run into the gutter."

I nodded in wonder. "Where does the water come from?" I asked curiously. Vincenzo smiled. "That was my father's great genius. On the roof we have a huge tank, almost like a barrel, which collects rainwater. Papi just rigged some pipes up to the tank and gravity makes it all flow, very clever no? It's also much less expensive than the systems which pull water from the Tiber. Of course, when there's a drought we're out of luck and must collect water from the wells and fountains like everyone else, but rain has been generous lately. The tank is almost full." My eyes sparkled at the genius of the idea and there was a brief look of speculation on Vincenzo's face before it disappeared. "Towels are in the cabinet, enjoy your bath." With that he was gone.

I locked the door behind him, distrustful of his skirt-chasing cousin, and fiddled with the lacing of my dress, letting it crumple on the floor. Then I pulled off my shift, as gray and thin with wear as my dress, and stepped out of my boots, shivering a little. A full length mirror hung from the wall and I looked away from it shyly. Normally I stayed away from mirrors, afraid of what I would find, but curiosity got the best of me and I looked. I was no great beauty like Carmina, though I suppose I was no dog. I pulled at the strings constraining my wild dark hair and freed it, letting the curls frame my face and dance down my back. My eyes, a strange mix of gray and brown, stared out from heavy lids, slightly purple from exhaustion. Oh how I would love to sleep.

I let my eyes drift lower crossing my arms over my chest in embarrassment. It was then I noticed the bruises. Finger marks like black and blue ink crisscrossed my upper arms, marring my honey colored skin. The marks were deep and would not disappear for a long, long time. Not able to look at them any more for fear of the memories that came with them; I turned to the tank and opened the lid. Steam had just begun to curl off the surface and I decided it was warm enough. I placed the heavy lid onto the oil pot, killing the flame, and then turned the handle on the faucet. Warm water spilled into the tub with a force I had not anticipated, splashing me in the face. I laughed in delight, brushing water from my eyes.

I let the tub fill half-way, not wanting to waste water, and stepped in. The coolness of the porcelain was exquisite against my skin and the warmth of the water soothed my aching muscles. Cautiously I unwound my hands, letting the bandages drop to the floor. After my bath I would use a little of the salve the Dottore had given me to take home before rebinding my fingers. There appeared to be a communal cake of soap and I reached for it, and then hesitated. It was likely this same cake had been used by Raniero, and Vincenzo, and every other man in this house. A blush broke violently across my cheeks but I gripped the soap tightly. I would use it this once but resolved to secure myself some soap of my own as soon as possible.

It was almost embarrassing the amount of grime I washed off of my body, turning the bathwater a murky sepia. My hair was the worst, taking the longest time to clean and hanging in a dark, wet web when I finished. At the end I pulled the cork as instructed and watched the water race down the drain. Stepping quickly from the bath (I was a little paranoid I would be swept out along with the water), I opened the cabinet and removed a towel from the first shelf. I dried of quickly and used the strings to tame my hair in a thick braid while it was still damp and manageable, there would be no living with it when it dried.

I then slipped back into my clothes, not before noting that they too needed a wash, and pulled a small glass container of salve from my pocket. Putting a little on each finger I attempted to rewrap the bandages, but as I was right handed the bandages on that hand hung very loosely from the digits. Deciding it was fine I once again stowed the container in my pocket and hung the towel from a clothesline strung between the restaurante and the building across the way. The line was hooked to a pulley so once the towel was draped I needed only tug on the top line to get the towel to move out into the sun. As a last thought I took a few cardamom seeds from a jar in the cabinet, chewing them quickly and working them around my mouth so it would be as fresh as possible.

Satisfied I exited the bathroom and went to look for Bernardetta. Raniero, however, stopped me before I could leave the living room. He had sort of an annoyed expression on his face and jerked his head towards the staircase. "Ah, you're done. The first customers are here." I frowned he didn't seem too happy about that fact. He grumbled. "They're asking for you, one of them says he knows you." I was extremely puzzled; who could I possibly know in Roma? I had only been there for a day. Then my eyes widened in realization and my heartbeat quickened a bit, my cheeks flushing vibrantly. At my excited reaction Raniero's expression turned even sourer, but I pushed past him, dashing through the kitchen and forcing myself to keep a normal pace as I descended the stairs.

And there he was. He was taller than I remembered, and his hood had slipped from his head revealing thick, dark brown hair cut long and secured in the back by a black silk ribbon. I wondered in passing how it would feel to comb my fingers through that hair and a hectic blush sprang up on my cheeks. He was deep in conversation with his companion, an older but shorter man with wavy chin length blonde hair streaked with silver and a rather sallow complexion. His eyes however, were a shocking blue that sparkled like sapphires in his aged face, glittering with immense intelligence. Neither man noticed my approach until I tapped Ezio gently on the shoulder. "Benvenuto, Signore Auditore." I greeted him, staring up into his dark eyes, a small smile playing on my lips. "It seems we meet again."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Sorry this one took so long. School started back up and I have once again become the victim of a large homework load. Plus I had to write this chapter twice because it didn't fit with Alba's character the first time. Anyway, any excuse is a bad excuse so sorry. I'll try to do two chapters a week, I think I can manage that. Otherwise my friend Emily will kill me and then I'll be dead... bummer. Oh and quick question, does anyone know how much a florin is worth? For instance, if Alba was to go buy a sandwich, or a loaf of bread, how many florins would it cost? Thanks a million! -Goldiva**

Ezio's brow softened and a smile played on his lips. He bowed a little and reached for my hand; intending, I imagine, to kiss it. When he saw the bandages his eyes narrowed incredulously and his suave countenance was decimated, replaced with disquiet. "Dios mio, Alba! What have you done to yourself?" I hid my hands quickly behind me, blushing a little. "I was careless and picked up a hot pan." I don't know why I lied, why I bothered protecting Bernardetta, but it was surprisingly easy. Normally falsehoods are Carmina's forte, not my own.

Ezio shook his head, taking my right hand. "And these bandages! It seems the dottores are getting sloppy." I shook my head. "No that was my fault. I took a bath just now and had to take them off." Ezio raised an eyebrow and I realized that a woman with class probably would not have told an attractive man she barely knew about her personal hygiene. I felt red creep up my neck and sting my ears as I glanced up at Ezio.

He laughed and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. "You smell very nice, piccolina." My ear tingled from where he had brushed against it, his fingers rough with callous. There was a loud cough from behind him and we turned to face Ezio's companion. "Ah, forgive me, old friend. This is Alba de Luca." The older man smiled and bowed a little in greeting. "Ah, si. The Signorina with a lack of balance and a witch for a sister, no?" I gaped and felt my eyes widened in shock. Ezio punched the man in the arm producing an audible thud, disguising it with a playful grin. "Please Leonardo! Your tongue can cut glass! Alba, this is Leonardo da Vinci, my closest friend."

I shook off my surprise and offered him my hand. "A pleasure to meet you Signore da Vinci. I am much indebted to Signore Auditore and any friend of his is a friend of mine. But Signores, it is very early. Dinner will not be ready for a while yet." Leonardo took my hand gingerly and I was surprised by the softness of his skin. "It is no trouble, Signorina. We will not stay long." Ezio watched our hands until they dropped, his gaze flicking to Leonardo's.

"Leonardo does not like crowds I'm afraid. We're just here for a couple of drinks." I nodded and gestured to the empty room behind me. "If you'll take a seat?" I led them to a table near a window. Leonardo sat instantly, his legs practically falling out from beneath him. Ezio however swept me into a chair before I could react, kneeling in front of me. I was so startled I nearly knocked my chair backward, but then Ezio held out his palm. "Your hand, Alba." Realizing his intentions I extended my right hand, slipping my fingers into his large palm.

His skin was warm and dry, creating pleasant friction against my own. Long, lithe, masculine fingers skillfully unwrapped my pinky before reversing the process just as quickly. When he was done my bandages were snug, but not uncomfortably so, and I let my fingertips linger against his skin a moment before I pulled away. "Grazie." I said, flexing my hand as I vacated Ezio's seat. "It's no trouble, piccolina." I smiled softly and turned to Leonardo who was eying me critically. I shifted, startled, and lifted a hand. "Signore, is there something on my face?" Dios mio, what if there was and Ezio had simply been too polite to say anything? Merda!

I rubbed my cheek so hard it stung, the bandages coarse against my face. "It's nothing really, but you do possess a very rare bone structure Signorina." mused Leonardo, rubbing his chin. "Very rare indeed." I blinked, unsure of what his comment meant. "Grazie Signore." I said hesitantly. "Now, what would you like to drink?" Leonardo's glance didn't veer from my face at all, as if it was cemented there. "Red wine. I care not what year." He said after a moment, his eyes following a path toward my chin. I turned to Ezio, supremely uncomfortable. "The same." He said with a smile. I nodded and rushed off and up the stairs, Leonardo's eyes trailing after me the entire way.

I slammed full force into Raniero, who toppled backward but managed to balance elegantly on the balls of his feet. "Were you eavesdropping?" I asked incredulously before shaking my head. "Never mind, I need your help. They say they want wine." Raniero grumbled, walking briskly out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Get it yourself. There are carafes under the counter." He called over his shoulder. "Cafone." I muttered under my breath.

I trudged down the stairs sheepishly. When the men gave me curious glances I attempted a confident smile before walking swiftly over to the bar. I climbed under a small opening in the base of the bar and stood inside its protective walls. Reaching under the counter as instructed I pulled a heavy glass carafe free and opened the hatch to the cellar.

As I climbed down the ladder into the cool darkness, the carafe precariously gripped in one hand, I thought of the irony of my situation. I, a poor farm girl with no experience with fine wine being far more used to rough home-made concoctions, was to pick out a good wine as a representative of a respectable restaurant. What was the world coming to?

My boots hit the floor of the cellar with a soft thud. In the dim light shining down from the restaurant I saw an oil lamp which I promptly lit with a match from the box resting next to it. The lamp gave the casks, kegs, and bottles surrounding me a burnished bronze cast, the light reflecting eerily on the glass. To one side the wall was covered, floor to ceiling, in a double layer of casks stretching from one end of the cellar to the other. On the opposing side kegs of what I presumed was some sort of ale were stacked next to a lengthy series of shelves which held the harder liquors. Nervously I hung the lamp from a peg that had been hammered into one of the wooden supports and gripped the neck of the carafe with my fingers.

Reaching out I turned the handle of the small bronze tap closest to me and watched the burgundy liquid flow across the crystal. I stopped after a moment, curious, and lifted the carafe to my nose. It smelled smoky and strong. Lifting the carafe to my lips I braced myself and took a small sip of the ruby liquid.

I nearly spat it out then and there. I swallowed hard, my eyes burning and my tongue curling up in knots. Merda, it was strong! Choking I filled the carafe to the brim and walked back towards the ladder, blowing out the candle on my way. I made slow progress up the ladder, attempting to not spill the wine everywhere, and eventually surfaced, closing the hatch behind me with my foot. What I saw almost made me drop my carafe.

Carmina was daintily perched on one of the chairs, talking and laughing, shamelessly batting her eyelashes at the men. Vincenzo, to my mortification, stood against the doorway, a sour expression on his face, his hands resting aggressively on his hips. "Dios mio!" I muttered, walking over to the table.

"Signore Da Vinci," I heard her purr as I neared the table. "If it pleases you, I would be more than happy to volunteer my services as a model. I have heard around Roma you need girls who fit the image of angels." I couldn't help a gentle snort, which earned a furious glare from my sister. "Your wine, Signores." I said, smiling what I hoped was a hospitable smile. Ezio took the carafe from me and our fingers brushed, once again warming my cheeks. Leonardo glanced up at me intensely before returning his gaze to Carmina.

"I am sorry, Signorina, but I am afraid I have no need of your assistance. There is a certain quality my models require which you appear to lack." Carmina turned a little red, flustered and angry. "And what would that be, signore?" she hissed, her seductive lips twisted with offense. Leonardo's pale eyes were like ice. "A soul." Carmina's eyes widened frightfully in shock; bulging from her normally flawless face. I was unsure I had ever seen such an expression before.

"Well I never!" she spat out, standing abruptly and rushing off upstairs, followed closely by Vincenzo, whose mood had taken an sudden turn for the better. I turned slowly back to the men a small frown on my face. "Signore, I am sure if that was completely merited." My admonishment seemed to surprise both Leonardo and Ezio who looked at me with raised brows. "She may be unpleasant," I said blushing, "But she is my sister." Leonardo held my gaze very seriously before speaking. "It seems the ties of blood run deeper within you than they do in her." My face flamed as I realized she had been talking about me disparagingly while I was in the cellar, and I backed away, thoroughly embarrassed.

"I'll get your glasses." I said in a rush as I raced up the stairs and into the kitchen. I carefully retrieved two glasses and made my way back to the table setting them down with a soft clink. "Enjoy Signores, feel free to call if you need anything else." Leonardo nodded, his eyes once again beginning to trace my face. Ezio cast him a warning glance and thanked me before pouring himself and Leonardo a glass. I waited anxiously as he lifted the glass to his lips, taking an elegant sip. When he removed the cup a few drops of wine clung to his bottom lip and I watched mesmerized as it was wiped clean with a slow sweep of his tongue.

"Bene." He said with a crinkling smile. "Delicious." Grinning in relief I left them alone and once again headed upstairs. Among the many people in the kitchen I saw a lovely girl I recognized from the night before. Her thick, wavy ebony hair was pulled back in a loose bun, letting tendrils of silk fall attractively about her heart-shaped face. She was plump, but not in an unpleasant way, simply lushly curved and voluptuous. I carefully approached her. "Cosima?" I asked, hoping I had her name right. She glanced up from the soup she was stirring, a warm blush coloring her alabaster cheeks as her sparkling cerulean eyes met mine.

"Si, and you are Alba, are you not?" I couldn't help but smile in return and we simply stayed there for a moment, grinning like a couple of fools. "Did you have a question?" she asked at last. I blushed and nodded. "Yes, a couple of Signores ordered a carafe of wine, I was wondering how much to charge them." She bit her lip. "My younger brother, Raniero, normally handles drinks. Did he not help you?" I shook my head and her brow furrowed. "Alright," she said standing, "I'll go talk to them, if you don't mind watching my soup…?" I shook my head and took her place, carefully stirring the boiling mixture. It smelled like lamb and countless spices I couldn't name. My stomach rumbled in protest but I ignored it, waiting for her return.

I heard Cosima on the stairs a few minutes later, the sound of florins chinking in her apron pocket. "All set." She said with a smile. "Normally you won't really have to worry about drinks. The way the restaurant works, we make one meal, tonight it's lamb soup, and every customer pays a set price for that meal, bread, salad and water included. If the customer wants wine they have to go purchase it at the bar themselves, and then it's Raniero's, Vincenzo's, or my father's problem."

I blinked. "But I thought Signore Bianchetti passed away?" Cosima laughed. "My father is not a Bianchetti. His name is Orazio Martello, he married my mother Gianna, who was Signore Bianchetti's younger sister, and thus became a partner in the family business by marriage." I nodded slowly. "So you are Cosima Martello?" She smiled and stirred the pot. "Si, and Raniero is Raniero Martello, along with my older brother Umberto, his wife Crocetta, their son Xaviero and their daughter Colombina, my sisters the triplets, Bettina, Carlotta, and Dona, and my youngest brother Pasquale."

"I see," I said slowly, wondering how I was going to remember them all. "Are there any other Bianchettis then, besides Bernardetta, Vincenzo and Ferruccio?" Cosima nodded, gesturing at a nondescript young man chopping vegetables next to an extremely thin young woman with a glaringly pregnant stomach. "Cipriano is the middle child and he and his wife Delfina are expecting a child soon." I counted everyone up in my head. Along with Carmina and myself there were nineteen people living in the Restaurante Bianchetti. Dios mio.

A younger girl, maybe fifteen, came barreling up the stairs, her lank brown hair hanging in strips about her flushed face. "Are you Alba?" she asked, bounding over. I nodded slowly and she grinned. "The Signores had to leave, but one said he'd be back tomorrow." Before I could ask which Signore the girl was gone, skipping off into the house. "Bettina," explained Cosima. "And if you think she's a handful just wait, there are two more of her running around somewhere."

I laughed a little but then a sound behind me wiped all humor off of my face. Turning I saw Bernardetta reach the top of the stairs, her face tight with fury, her eyes narrowed to slits. She grabbed me roughly by the arms, her fingers clutching my bruises and causing me to wince. "Zia!" exclaimed Cosima, surprised and anxious. Bernardetta ignored her. "Where's that no good sister of yours?" she spat. "This time her hide is mine!"


	9. Chapter 9

"Zia!" chastised Cosima quietly; her beautiful eyes alight with concern as she managed to pry me loose from Bernardetta's vice-like grasp. I blushed at the gentleness of her touch and the righteous anger that set her full lips in a pout. She was a saint. Bernardetta's teeth gnashed together and her nostrils flared like those of a horse in distress.

"Where is Carmina!" she demanded again, but I noted this time she did not try to touch me. Probably because Cosima had stepped protectively in front of me, one velvety soft hand loosely clutching my wrist. I bit my tongue, determined not to answer, but my eyes gave me away, flicking quickly towards the living room before I realized it. Bernardetta needed no further answer and was off like a shot, barreling out of the kitchen in a storm of fury.

I stood stunned for a moment, exchanging a shocked glance with Cosima who patted my shoulder quickly with sympathy. That was then the shrieking started. My sister's screams broke me from my numb state and jolted me into action. I ran to the door of the living room and felt my eyes go wide as dinner plates. Bernardetta had Carmina by her lovely honey colored hair and was shaking her as she snarled profanities at her in quick and violent succession.

Carmina, for her part, looked terrified. Her gaze caught mine and her perfect mouth opened wide, releasing a bloodcurdling scream that gave me goose bumps. "Aiuto! Please help! The old woman's gone senile!"

"Senile?" bellowed Bernardetta, giving Carmina's hair a sharp tug which earned her another shriek, "I'm the one who's crazy? You're the one who's insane if you think I'll still let you marry my son after all of the messes you've caused! You are a pox! You come into my home and bring nothing but chaos in your wake, Strega piccola!"

Vincenzo could be seen in the background, fluttering about like a helpless bird while Raniero and the rest of the family merely watched with entertained fascination. "Mama, mama, stop, per favore!" he cried, desperate to come to the lovely Carmina's aid. Carmina let out one last shriek and I decided I had seen enough. Obnoxious or not, Carmina was blood.

Stepping forward, I delivered a stinging slap to Bernardetta's wrist. It didn't do much damage, but the blow had been unexpected and her fingers released their hold on my sister's hair in surprise. Quickly I pulled Carmina away. Realizing she was finally free and seeing an opportunity to cement herself in Vincenzo's favor, Carmina left my side for Vincenzo's warm ends, proceeding to bawl like a baby.

"Silenzio! Hush!" I snapped at her, and she stared at me with wide eyed anger, but tightly closed her mouth. I once again faced Bernardetta, who, while still furious, watched me with something close to respect in her gaze. "Signora, what exactly is it that my sister has done? One cannot deliver punishment without a fair trial." My voice was even but it held an edge of steel. Even I was capable of showing backbone sometimes.

Bernardetta composed herself a bit, though the angry flush still burned her cheeks and neck. "I told her to unload the cart. But did she do it? No, the princessa didn't want to get her hands dirty." Bernardetta's tone dripped with venom and I blanched, realizing what must have happened. Hours of sitting in the blazing Italian summer sun wasn't good for humans, let alone produce. "The ingredients are ruined, wasted! And now I have to go back to market to see if the farmers have any leftovers I can salvage. Merda!"

Her frustration overflowed in the form of an angry tear racing down her cheek, only to be rubbed roughly away by calloused fingers. The attention of the entire room turned towards Carmina, who had the decency to turn red and hide her head in Vincenzo's chest with shame. There was complete silence for a moment. Eventually Vincenzo spoke.

"It was an honest mistake, Mama," he said slowly, "I am sure Carmina didn't mean-" Bernardetta blew her top.

"She knew very well what she did when she ignored her task! And you now try to defend her? Dio mio!" She began to pace, running a hand frantically through her hair as she stomped about the room, attempting to relieve her body of some of her ire. Again silence fell as she strode back and forth.

"There's no use worrying about it now," I said finally, "Carmina was in the wrong, but what's done is done." Carmina shot a glare full of daggers at me but I ignored her. "We will reimburse you for the vegetables and I will go myself and attempt to buy more if that would make amends."

"I'll go as well," threw in Cosima, offering me a sweet smile, "I know what needs to be bought. We'll be back in an hour and that way everyone can get started getting ready for tonight. How does that sound, Zia Bernardetta?" Bernardetta grumbled.

"It sounds like Vincenzo's engaged to the wrong daughter." A flush broke out on my skin, staining it tomato red as Carmina stared at me with outrage. "Oh, very well. Carmina will clean pots as we go." Carmina looked like she was about to scream again so I ushered Cosima and Ferruccio downstairs, out the door, and back to market.

The shopping did not take as long as we had anticipated as the pickings were truly slim, but we bought what we could and headed back. The moment we returned we were whisked upstairs, along with the produce, to get ready for that night's meal. I found myself dicing, chopping, stirring, salting, spicing, and baking all sorts of delicacies. No sooner would I finish one job than another would be placed in my capable hands, and I found myself relishing in it. It was nice to be needed.

Carmina, on the other hand, looked miserable, scrubbing pots and pans half-heartedly, a sulking pout marring her face. Vincenzo and Raniero made it their duty to make her smile, but before long Bernardetta chased them from the kitchen with a broom and Carmina was back to brooding silence.

It was remarkably engaging work. When patrons started coming I was permitted to help bus the tables, delivering food to happy, hungry customers. There was something about having people eat and enjoy food that you helped prepare, it made me feel warm, whole, and though it was a sin a little bit proud. Eventually the customers dwindled and the shop doors closed. We all piled once again into the kitchen to wash the rest of the dishes and head to bed.

I felt slightly lost, not entirely sure where I should go, but Cosima rescued me yet again. "Come," she said, her voice soft but firm, "You will stay with me. Carmina will sleep with the triplets." I followed her up the stairs, mesmerized by her grace as she walked down the hall, stopping in front of the last door. It opened with a creak and Cosima ushered me inside, shutting the door behind us. I was thrown into a world of total darkness for a moment before the pungent smell of homemade matches reached my nose and a small flame burst to life.

With care, Cosima lit a beeswax candle, the buttery glow giving the tiny chamber a golden beauty. There was a one bed, which would be a bit of a squeeze to fit both of us but I would make do, and a small dresser with a chipped porcelain basin resting on top. To the side rested a large green glass bottle with a stone stopper carved like a horse's head. Cosima followed my gaze and smiled.

"It's a mixture of mint and vinegar," she explained with a smile, "A tonic to keep your teeth clean. I recommend it." Curious, I reached for the bottle, unstoppered it, and took a swig. "Swish, gargle, and spit," she said, pointing towards the basin. I complied and wondered at the tingling sensation it left in my mouth. When I once again turned to face Cosima she was already in her bedclothes. She was wearing a lovely white linen slip with flowers embroidered in bright silk string at the collar and hem.

"You're bag is by the foot of the bed if you'd like to change," Cosima offered, pulling back the sheets and climbing into her bed. I opened the bad and rifled through the contents finally finding an old, grayish night gown, threadbare and worn from use. With practiced ease I slipped out of my clothes and into the gown, climbing into bed beside her. It was indeed a tight fit and we found ourselves squished together like a pair of sardines.

"Comfortable?" she asked, her eyes laughing. I snorted and reached over, blowing out the candle.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:**

**Hello everyone! I am sorry this story was on hiatus for so long, my muse sort of fled. I was really excited to see all of the reviews I got on chapter 9. You guys are really awesome for sticking with this story, true diehards. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate your support. It's people like you who make me want to keep writing and it was rereading this story's reviews that made me inspired to pick it back up again. So thank you. Thank you very much. I hope you will stick with this until the end. **

**On a more story related note, this chapter is sort of long, I realize, and short on EzioxAlba lovin'. It is coming though, so please be patient. Also, I am aware that I make occasional typo errors, it sort of comes with writing quickly and I apologize. Please bear with me. -_- Yup, that's all. Enjoy and please review!**

**-Goldiva**

Chapter 10

That night I dreamed, which was rare for me but considering the excitement of that day, I suppose it was hardly unusual. I was running through the market, shoving faceless people out of my way as I fled, my feet moving slowly as if I was waist deep in mud. Behind me I could hear a man's pained bellow, screeching out a name with rhythmic abandon, 'Floriana, Floriana, Floriana!'.

Powerful fingers twined in my hair, yanking me back with a force that brought tears to my eyes. I could hear someone begging, pleading for freedom, and eventually I realized that person was me. Laughter, cold and cruel, was my only answer, and I could feel myself falling further and further into desperation. I clawed and kicked and screamed, panic welling up in my chest as I fought, hopelessly, frantic to get loose.

And then, as abruptly as the panic had come on, it evaporated. I was no longer in the market, but back home, standing outside of my family's tiny but well-tended farm, the sun warming my face and a gentle breeze ruffling my hair. Filled with joy I scampered around the house, anxious to greet my father and brothers. A figure was hunched over, tending some grape vines and I smiled, running up and hugging his powerful back.

'Papa!' I laughed, 'I'm home.' The man turned at my touch and I stiffened, a shiver of excitement travelling like lightning up my spine. It was not my father. Though dressed in a poor farmer's garb, the sensuous planes of Ezio Auditore de Firenze's face were unmistakable, as was his smile.

'Si, piccolina,' he whispered, his voice dark and rough as he brushed a few strands of loose hair behind my ear, 'You are home.' I couldn't look away or breathe as his face slowly neared mine, mischief glinting in his dark eyes as our lips came closer and closer together. 'Alba?' he asked, his voice husky with want.

'Yes?' I squeaked out, unable to think beyond those masculine lips.

'Alba!' he said again, sharper this time, and with a feminine edge. I frowned something was wrong. 'It's time to wake up, sleepy head.'

My eyes snapped open and once again I found myself in Cosima's room, staring up at the spider web crack in the whitewashed ceiling. Once my pulse had slowed a bit, I looked over at Cosima, who had already bathed and was clothed in a beautiful cream colored dress that flattered her full figure. "What's happening?" I asked groggily, sitting up and untangling my limbs from the sheets.

"We are going to mass," explained Cosima with a smile, proceeding to braid her beautiful ebony hair, "It is Sunday morning." I yawned and Cosima laughed, the sound like bells. "Get dressed, Zia wants to leave soon to get good seats. Father Adamo always delivers very… invigorating sermons."

I nodded blearily and pulled off my night gown, rooting around in my bag for my spare clean shift and my church dress. When she saw it, Cosima attempted to keep a kind smile on her face, but I had seen it falter. I sighed. "I know they are rags, but they are the best I have," I said to her, slightly embarrassed that my family's lack of fortune was being put so blatantly on display. Cosima blushed, shamed, and shook her head.

"The heavenly father is blind to such things, his only care is for the good in our hearts. Now dress." I smiled at her and stepped into the green dress. The colors were faded, but it was not nearly as worn as my normal attire. Cosima then helped me with my hair, arranging it up high and securing it with pins. "You have a lovely neck," she said absently as she tucked a few flowers into my corkscrew curls, "It is a shame to keep it hidden, no?"

Looking presentable we made our way downstairs. The rest of the household had gathered there, looking sharp in their Sunday best. Carmina, sneaky devil, had managed to con one of the triplets out of one of their dresses and was garbed in a beautiful rose colored taffeta that accentuated her curves and revealed just enough cleavage to be enticing but still church appropriate. She saw me staring and tossed her hair haughtily before flirting shamelessly with Raniero. It seemed I was to be the only one wearing old clothes.

Raniero saw me and cast me a coy wink. He looked stunning, almost too stunning. It was odd to me that a man could be that physically beautiful, but clothed as he was in a fitted shirt and pants, he was undeniably gorgeous. I returned his wink with a deep scowl, sticking my tongue out at him before Cosima accosted me, looping her arm through mine and leading me down stairs.

After locking up the Restaurante we made our way as one giant unit toward the nearest church, the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore. I had to fight to keep my jaw from hanging open as I entered the house of god. Never had I been exposed to anything so lush, so beautiful, so dazzling.

After passing through the Basilica's triumphal arch we entered the main hall of the house of worship. The ceiling was impossibly high, supported by Athenian columns carved from the finest of green marble. Arching windows illuminated hundreds of small, jewel toned murals decorated the walls and ceiling, each expertly painted scene depicting a story from the bible. Interspersed between the columns were mosaics made from thousands of tiny gem chips and gold, illustrating Christ's life from birth to rebirth in wondrous detail. Everything else was sheathed in so much gold leaf that it made my eyes go wide and my palms sweat.

Back home we attended church in our village's small chapel, which at any given time could only fit twenty five people so whether you went to mass in the morning, afternoon, or evening was chosen by lot. The Basilica easily fit three hundred people in the main area, and another one hundred and fifty along the sides, and as the flock appeared faithful I had no doubt every seat would be full.

We strode down the center aisle, our pace subconsciously matching the music of the organ pipes as we went, giving me a chance to study the marble floor. Even that was inlaid with exotic patterns, the dark stone carving lovely scars into the white like ink on parchment. The scent of incense cloyed in the air and got stronger as we moved forward. By the time Bernardetta was satisfied and picked a pew my eyes were watering from the strength of the smell.

We were as far up as was allowed. The first few pews were reserved for the families of noble blood, but the Bianchetti's, as the wealthy owners of a successful restaurante, did command some respect socially. We slid into the glossy hardwood pew, the surface stained dark, and sank into the lush, midnight blue velvet cushions that ran the length of the bottom of the pew. I sighed, the benches we had at home were rough hewn and possessed no backs, I could get used to the luxury the Basilica provided.

As we waited for mass to begin, I found myself looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ezio. Several gentlemen caught my stare, and some even matched it with an interested smile, but in the end my search was fruitless and my gaze dropped to my hands. Eventually Father Adamo took to the pulpit and the church grew silent.

The sermon was well written although nothing special, but Adamo's voice was rich and deep and he spoke with such passion it was difficult to look away. His hands moved in large sweeping gestures as he preached, and his face grew redder and redder with the intensity of his emotion and belief. It was hard not to see that this was a man who truly was with god. At one point his arm waving got so wild he knocked over a couple of candles. I felt Cosima stiffen beside me, but he was so caught up in the splendor of his speech he hardly noticed, not bothering to stop even when two vicars hurried forward to put out the flames.

At the end of the service we received communion, immediately after the nobles so the bread and wine that we ended up receiving was of wonderful quality and I enjoyed it more than simply the joy of being close to the creator. Was that wrong? Probably, but I was unlikely to taste bread that soft and wonderful ever again. Father Adamo greeted Bernardetta as she passed, a gesture made, I suspected, as much out of kindness as out of politics.

When he caught sight of my face, however, he went as white as a sheet, his lips thinning into a taut line. Bernardetta stepped in quickly to introduce me. "Signorina Alba de Luca, she is here with her sister, Carmina, who is engaged to wed my eldest." The priest recovered.

"Signorina de Luca, welcome to the house of god. You must forgive me, you're face resembles… one I did not think I would see again, no matter how lengthy my life." His smile was genuine, but his words chilled me. Cosima saw my distress and squeezed my hand comfortingly as Father Adamo once again addressed Bernardetta. "I do hope you will allow me the honor of marrying your son. You and your family are such valued members of the congregation, and I am proud to say that I have married every baby I've baptized."

Bernardetta laughed. "Well I would hate to be the cause of the only stain on your record Padre. **If** my son is to marry, it will be at your hands, in this church." The priest smiled, mollified, and we headed out, back to the restaurant, to observe our day of rest.

"Alba," said Cosima cautiously, "You mustn't feel obligated, but would you like to help me this afternoon?" I frowned at her as we walked, our strides matching, our arms linked.

"Doing what may I ask?" Cosima smiled at me.

"Every Sunday I go down to the poor quarter and serve soup, bread and cheese to the less fortunate," she said earnestly, her sapphire eyes going misty as she relived the past. "It feels like I'm able to make a difference in my own small way. And I only use scraps for the soup and the leftover bread so Zia doesn't mind." I stared at her wide-eyed and couldn't stop the warm laugh that bubbled forth. Cosima looked hurt. "What's so funny?" I wiped a tear of mirth from my face, her reproachful expression causing the laughter to die out in my chest.

"Cosima! Dear, sweet, kind-hearted Cosima, don't take offense," I said quickly as her gaze narrowed at me in suspicion, "I think it's wonderful that you do this service, truly I do. I simply find myself amused to be in the presence of a saint. I keep asking myself if you can be any more perfect, and you keep exceeding my wildest hopes."

Cosima blushed, the gentle pink hue staining her alabaster skin. "Alba, you flatter me!" she protested with undoubtedly genuine modesty. I grinned. Cosima was a lovely change of pace from my sister. I was about to tease her a bit more when a voice cut into our conversation.

"Signorina Alba."

I looked up surprised. We were already back in front of the Restaurante and a figure which had been lounging against the wall stood and moved to greet us. I kept my face blank in order to hide the disappointment I felt when Signore da Vinci approached us. So he had been the one that had promised a visit. Merda.

"Signore," I greeted him, returning his stiff bow with a small curtsy. "Have you met Signorina Martello?" His light blue gaze flicked briefly to Cosima's face and then back to mine with an intensity that nearly bowled me over.

"We are acquainted," he said brusquely, "But I did not come to share meaningless pleasantries, even with women of exceptional beauty." Cosima and I were not swayed by his comment.

"Then what is your purpose in coming here, Signore da Vinci?" asked Cosima with an edge of worry, her grip on my arm tightening.

"Simply put," he said, his penetrating stare once again boring holes in my eyes, "I cannot seem to get you out of my head, Signorina Alba." Cosima gasped. I stared at him, my skin exploding with volcanic color.

"I beg your pardon?" I spluttered, gripping Cosima for support. This man was clearly insane and I began to wonder if we should yell inside the Restaurante for help.

"I want you…" he repeated, his gaze never faltering as he licked his lips and took a step towards me. I wanted to scream and took three quick steps away, fighting the desire to flee. "… to be my model." Abruptly the world snapped back into perspective and I could feel Cosima relax even as my own muscles unclenched. As shocked as I was, my mouth had no filter.

"Why?" I asked incredulously, watching his face with utter bafflement. A small, secretive smile quirked his lips, making him appear far younger than he was.

"You have sparked my muse, Signorina de Luca, and it will only be satisfied when I have painted you to my heart's content. Will you agree to sit for me?" His voice was like velvet, drawing me in and coercing my agreement. I fought the urge tooth and nail.

"I am afraid that will not be possible, Signore," I said with overmuch solemnity. Leonardo frowned, clearly unused to being denied.

"Why not?" he said with a sharp impatience like a petulant child.

"I have agreed to assist Signorina Martello feed the hungry," I said, unable to keep the triumphant glint from my gaze. Cosima ruined my plan.

"Oh, no! But you must sit for Signore da Vinci! What an opportunity! His work is unparalleled. You can join me next week, but surely you will not pass up this chance?" Her eyes were excited and innocent, void of duplicity. It was hard to be annoyed with a face like that.

"I can pay you in coin if that would expedite your acquiescence," offered Leonardo. I flushed.

"Signore! It is the Sabbath!" Ezio's friend or not, there was no way I was going to lose god's favor by working that day. Leonardo rolled his eyes.

"Fine, I won't pay you. Better for me anyway, now shall we go?" He held out his arm pointedly for me to take and Cosima smiled her encouragement.

"I'll let Zia know. You shall tell me all about it when you get home, yes?" she asked, her voice excited. I sighed in defeat, extricating myself from her arm but stubbornly refusing to take Leonardo's.

"Yes." Leonardo was quick to claim his victory and grabbed my wrist.

"Bene! Come along then!" And off we went, Leonardo dragging me bodily through the crowds of Roma. I sighed. Could I never catch a break?


End file.
